Puzzle Pieces
by Yggdrasil'sRoots
Summary: Q is a creature of habit. Every morning, he wakes up at six thirty. He drinks a cup of earl grey tea, leaf, not bag, thank you very much, eats a bowl of cereal, dresses in sensible work clothing, and boards the seven o'clock tube train to MI6 headquarters. Location not disclosed.
1. Chapter 1

_**My so called lazy day turned into writing this. Oops.**_

_**I have no clue how this will turn out, if there is a plot, if my brain just wants to do something, or if it will actually be something, stick with it, it might surprise you AND me.**_

_**Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, do not own the Bond franchise. Someone want to fix that for me?**_

Q is a creature of habit. Every morning, he wakes up at six thirty. He drinks a cup of earl grey tea, leaf, not bag, thank you very much, eats a bowl of cereal, dresses in sensible work clothing, and boards the seven o'clock tube train to MI6 headquarters.

Location not disclosed.

He enters the building at exactly seven fifteen and nods at the guard who checks his pass and swipes it through so he can take the lift down to Q level. Naturally, he then checks the building's security, the classified files on the heavily encoded server, and the numerous elaborate, highly encrypted firewalls he has built up over the six months since the unfortunate business with Raoul Silva.

He's been working on a nifty little virus which hacks the hacker, and presses an undo button, if there were such a thing, so that all the hacking is reversed and the would be hacker is back to square one.

Ingenious. He does surprise himself sometimes.

He fires off emails to the appropriate high ups, so they can deal with the ambitious criminals who thought they would have a go at breaking his security. They have all, of course, failed, and on occasion, he tips a mental hat to the single hacker who has broken the first firewall, then settles in with a cup of tea to modify it. He places his virus in each firewall, hiding it so the hacker will stumble upon it anew each time.

His day will then consist of blowing things up, attempting to stop the OO's from killing their targets, or themselves, and saving the interns from the tangle of Christmas lights.

It's April, he does not want to know how they found the damned things.

At around ten, he packs up his things, catches the train back to his apartment, throws himself together a perfunctory meal, and settles down with his giant, fluffy cat to read for half an hour before bed, said cat already having been fed by Eve, who always pops by as she finishes work much earlier than MI6's Quartermaster.

Every week, he receives a phone call from his mother, his sister, and his best friend from school. On the rarest of occasions, he meets with them, always somewhere different, specifically chosen so agents can monitor them, no assassins can, well, assassinate anyone, and he can have a good cup of tea. His family will chide him for not visiting more often. He will leave with presents, a stinging arm from Harry's punch to the arm, and a lipstick mark on his cheek from his overly affectionate sister.

Yes, Q is quite happy with his little routine.

Was, _was_ quite happy.

Bond happened.

James Bond is not a man content to follow a routine. He is impulsive, makes decisions in a split second, and isn't afraid to throw the rule book in the nearest bin.

In fact, he seems to prefer it.

This is part of what makes him such a successful agent, and an absolutely dreadful normal human being, if any of MI6 are remotely normal any more.

Regardless, James Bond does not do normal.

He rarely spends any time in his government issued apartment overlooking the River Thames, choosing instead to sleep in the barracks of various military operations, none of which ever know who he is or why he is there.

Most never even realise he is there at all, but wake to find missing cctv footage and stolen bedding.

Bond is good at not leaving DNA behind.

He breaks into agents' apartments to test them, annoy them, or even just to see if he can.

He spends far too much time in the new M's house, determined to figure him out the way he did the woman who became his mother figure, and died in his arms.

He refuses all psychological help, all friendly help, and instead steals a key to the shooting range.

Go figure.

So when he starts hanging around Q branch, Q is suspicious.

But he knows Bond won't leave, so he just ignores him.

The interns don't know how to ignore a double O, clad in a stylish, expensive suit, which probably won't return from his impending mission, fiddling with the gadgets Q designs, tests, and dishes out to the agents. They don't know how to talk to a double O at all, or even look one in the eye.

The interns are terrified.

Q? Q doesn't have time to be scared of a man that has lost count of his kills, near death experiences and number of guns he hasn't returned to Q's of the past.

Q of the present as well, actually.

He was rather proud of the hand print pistol. Very innovative, if he did say so himself.

And a pain in the arse to replicate.

The second day that Bond wanders into Q level, Q digs in his desk for a Rubik's cube, 16 by 16, and hands it to the agent, swapping it out with an exploding pen.

He stows the pen in a lead lined safe and a thumbprint scanner.

They don't speak, but Bond settles in to solve the 3D puzzle, a charming frown spreading across his face as he turns sections and aligns coloured squares, only to turn another piece and lose all progress made.

It keeps him quiet, at least.

The interns still swerve in a wide arc to avoid him.

When Q fetches himself another mug of tea (breakfast, they have run out of earl grey), he makes a cup of coffee, one packet of sweetener, and a small splash of milk, sets it on the table in front of 007, and settles back in to write the code for the CIA. Bond doesn't question the drink.

They _are_ spies.

The CIA been having trouble with a hacker, and asked Q for help.

Demanded.

It's the same thing with the CIA.

He types rapidly, exchanging small parts of his brand new code for bits that work better. When he is finished, he erases any personal signature. It won't do for any potential hacker to be lead right to him, after all. Checking his watch, he notes with mild surprise that it is past midnight, too late to go home. The last train will have left by now.

He checks his phone, smiling at a text from Eve, delivered earlier in the evening. Attached is a picture of her in pyjamas, his cat draped across her midriff.

Good thing lots of people in MI6 work late. He raids the storage room for a blow up mattress, blankets and pillow, and bunks down in his office, removing his glasses and folding the arms carefully, laying them on his desk.

Blearily, before sleep drags him under, he realises Bond is still working at the cube, a shadow in the dark of the empty room.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer: I do not own James Bond. Shame, really.**_

Q struggles up towards consciousness like he is swimming through syrup.

Maple syrup. He likes maple syrup. He doesn't think it would be very pleasant to swim in it though.

I must not be awake yet, he thinks sleepily.

A buttery smell permeates his nostrils, and he blinks, fully awake. He focuses on the blurry pair of legs in front of him, flat black pumps adorning the feet, and a caramel coloured hand, holding something black.

His glasses.

He gratefully seizes them and slips them on, details sharpening as the visual aid corrects the information reaching his brain. Eve's face swims into focus, one hand holding the plate of toast that must be the source of the smell of butter, the other hand almost buried in white fur.

"You brought my cat." He says stupidly. Eve snickers, hefts the Persian higher.

"Not a morning person, are you?" She says amusedly. Q, mid mouthful, makes a face at her.

"I brought you clothes, and your toothbrush." She points at a bag in the corner. "Your adorable, fluffy monster has been fed, watered and brushed, though you wouldn't believe it to look at her moulting everywhere." She sets the cat in his lap, where she bats at a piece of toast, then the slender woman saunters out of his office. "Ciao!"

Q looks at his kitten, chewing on the corner of his toast, and sighs.

"She will do great things." He picks the fluffy beast up, and puts her on his desk, where she proceeds to play with a pencil, and mess up the papers stacked precariously on the corner. He rescues it just in time, and scoops her up, collects the bag Eve left him, and wanders into his personal bathroom to change, brush his teeth, and make himself presentable.

He is unsurprised to find 007 sat in the main room, working at the still unsolved Rubik's cube. He dumps the cat on the man's lap, who jolts and shifts his weight rapidly to stop the grumbling animal from sliding to the floor. Q takes a brief moment of pleasure at the look of shock on the agent's face, which vanishes as he is forced to sprint across the room to snatch a smoking pen out of a worried looking intern's hand. He lobs it toward the blast area, a concrete dig out in the wall, where things that are about to blow up, and shouldn't be quite yet, are thrown, so he doesn't have to replace his lab assistants every few days.

"Everybody duck!" He hollers loudly, throwing himself to the floor and slinging his arms over his head. He turns his face to the side, watches Bond curl around his cat, and technicians drop like flies.

A loud explosion resonates, concrete chips flying around, clattering off walls, and screens. Smoke billows, and is sucked up by the extractor fans. He raises his head cautiously, only to drop it again as a piece of wall flies toward his face. He feels it bounce off his skull, and grumbles to himself. When all noise dies out, he lifts his head again, then picks himself up off the floor. Shaking plaster dust out of his hair, he smooths his unruly curls and brushes his cardigan down. Turning on his heel, he lifts the shell shocked cat from a confused 007's arms, and coos softly to her.

"Oh, my poor Melody, are you ok?" He kisses the Persian on the nose, and cradles her carefully, running his hands over her to check for injuries. Finding none, he fixes his gaze on Bond, who doesn't shift at all. "Thank you for saving my cat, 007." Bond nods, and extends a hand to scratch her on the head. Melody purrs, her fluffy body vibrating against Q's chest.

"You're quite welcome, Q." Q stares at Bond, his face relaxed as he pets the Quartermaster's cat. Then he turns his head, surveying the chaos.

"A pen is never a pen in Q branch." He mutters, mentally cataloguing damage and who he has to call to fix the wall.

Again.

"M is going to kill me." He sulks. "That's the third time this week."

"That a pen has exploded?" Bond asks absent mindedly, smiling at Melody butting her head against his fingers.

Q nods unhappily, already steeling himself for a lecture from MI6's new leader.

"I really should stop letting interns handle explosive stationary." He states dryly. Bond starts to reply, but is cut off by M storming in, a team of agents tailing him.

"What in the name of God is going on this time?" He snaps at Q.

"Exploding pen." Q curls his fingers into Melody's fur.

"Another one?"

"Interns."

"I'm giving you a blast lab." M states abruptly.

Q frowns.

"Sir?"

"You blow things up already, and it isn't going to stop, that much is clear, so I might as well give you a lab. All exploding devices are to be stored, and manufactured there, from now on. Am I clear?" M doesn't wait for an answer, but turns and leaves.

"And clear this bloody mess up!" He shouts over his shoulder. Q and Bond share a bemused look, before Q hands Bond his cat again, and turns to bark orders at his interns, and loyal assistants. He picks up the only intact phone in the room, and dials clean up.

"Hi Barry. Yeah, it's me again. Yes, it was another pen. Mm, interns again. No, M gave me a blast lab. Ha, yeah, should save you a bit of work. Yep. Alright, see you soon." He hangs up, retrieves his furry companion, and tugs Bond by the sleeve to the weapons laboratory.

"Right. For your mission to Uzbekistan next week." He said, handing Melody to Bond again, so he can unlock the reinforced cabinet and haul out the modified automatic pistols, with personalised ammunition, that he had created last week.

He is quite proud that it doesn't throw off their trajectory.

"What, the cat?"Bond jokes. Q raises an eyebrow.

"Her name is Melody." He hefts the guns. "And no. I made these for you last week. I wasn't going to show you yet, but bearing in mind you just stopped my cat from being squashed by drywall I figured you get a sneak peek." He swiftly disassembles a pistol, laying the firing pin, magazine, and various other pieces out. Bond runs his eyes over the pieces like he is greeting an old lover, and picks up one of the bullets from the box Q has just fetched, balancing the purring Persian effortlessly in the other arm.

"Do these bullets have a middle finger carved in?"

"Yes." Q picks up a bullet himself, admiring the small picture of a raised middle finger in the bullet.

"Nice." Bond nods, stroking the cat. "Very nice."

Q waits for the man to pick up a gun and assemble it, leaning against a wall. Bond doesn't get a chance, however, as Eve hurtles in.

"Where is she?" She asks, eyes wide. "Where's Melody?" Bond holds her up. Eve barely notes Bond's presence, doesn't question the peculiarity of a double O agent with the Quartermaster's cat. She snatches her away, frantically checks her for wounds. Satisfied, she breathes a sigh of relief, and takes in the scene before her. Q raises his eyebrows at her over his glasses, and Bond looks as though he is barely refraining from laughing.

"What?" She asks Q grumpily.

"Nothing, nothing at all, Eve." Q says calmly. "You wouldn't mind taking Melody home, would you? I imagine Bond will be firing his new toy any minute now, and I doubt she will react well to gunfire." Eve glares suspiciously at Bond, kisses Q on the cheek, and sashayes from the lab, Melody clutched to her chest.

"So." Bond rapidly assembles his new gun. "You and Eve?" Q laughs outright.

"Oh, heavens no!" Q pushes his glasses up his nose. "No, I'm gay, Bond." He tells the agent.

Bond ponders this for a moment. Q holds his breath.

"That explains the cardigans, at least." He chuckles.

"Stereotyping." Q accuses him, silently breathing a sigh of relief.

"True, though." Q concedes this after a moment of thought, before popping a pair of noise cancelling headphones over his ears. Bond does the same, before sliding a magazine into the gun and releasing the safety catch, aiming, and smoothly pulling the trigger. The bullets sink into the man shaped target, in a cluster around the centre.

"Good, nice. You've outdone yourself, Q." Bond praises him. Q savours the warm feeling in his chest for a moment. He does ever so like a job well done.

And this most certainly is a job well done, he thinks, as he regards Bond's strong profile, bent over the gun, callused fingers gliding do-

I am staring, he thinks to himself. Stop staring.

He doesn't stop staring.

"Q?"

Oh god. Bond is asking him something. Say something.

Anything.

"You have cat hair on your suit." He blurts.

"It's alright. I don't mind. I like your cat." Bond says, and flicks the safety catch on with his thumb. Q automatically takes the proffered pistols when Bond holds them out, putting them away and locking the cabinet. They pace in silence back to Q branch.

When they arrive, the clean up team have been and gone, and a semblance of normality has returned to the room. Tapping noises fill the room and Q smiles, relieved.

He turns around to locate Bond and giggles.

Bond has settled in what has become his chair, and is frowning at the Rubik's cube, twisting portions of it, and scowling when it doesn't yield a solution. He grins, and sits in his righted computer chair, then reboots his computer, and goes about fixing the damage caused by an exploding piece of stationary.

His next task is finding Eve and his cat.

Maybe he should ask Bond to help.

He glances over to Bond. He is engrossed in the puzzle. No help there.

Right.


	3. Chapter 3

_**I still haven't got a clue where this is going.**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Bond. :(**_

The day after the exploding pen, Q is checking his emails in Q branch when he stumbles across a message from Bond.

His eyebrow is threatening to climb up his forehead.

He quells the urge to raise it, and instead opens the email. It doesn't have a subject, or a greeting, but instead reads of the mission to Uzbekistan being brought forward to today, due to a rather messy situation with the president, and would Q please meet him in the weapons room so he can have those rather nice pistols?

This time Q's eyebrow does make its way up his face, meeting with a rather long curl that has dropped over his glasses. However, he doesn't question it, instead digging in the drawer of his desk for the new toy he designed for Bond.

What? He can make customised presents for agents.

He shakes his head, and calls Lily over. She is the only member of Q branch that he trusts to leave in charge, as she is the also the only person who blows things up on purpose.

It's an important distinction.

Lily pops up at his side as he locks his computer. She is tinkering with a watch, carefully winding tungsten wire into the face, and placing gears over the top. He gives it a glance, corrects the gear she is placing and asks her to keep an eye on the interns.

"Please, Lilypad?" Q begs. "007's mission was brought forward, he needs the pistols I made. And this." He holds up the weapon in disguise, and Lily's face portrays open unhappiness.

"If the interns kill me, I'm haunting you for eternity." She states flatly, before flouncing off, her long blonde hair swaying slightly in its braid. She flings herself grumpily into a chair, before swiping a screwdriver and furiously tightening a screw. Q makes a mental note to buy her an extremely expensive sugary coffee to make up for leaving her with the interns, and makes his way speedily up to the weapons room. Bond is waiting for him outside, slumped, seemingly bored, against the wall.

"Sorry. Had to make sure the interns are babysat." Bond straightens up, and Q keeps his eyes firmly on the keypad for the door.

"Are they really that bad?" Bond asks. Q scoffs, shoulders the door open, and gestures Bond inside.

"I've freed them from the Christmas lights three times this month." He places his thumb on the scanner, widens his eyes for the retinal scanner, taps in a ten digit pass code that only he knows, and frees the guns from the mounts.

"But it's April." Bond says. Q hands him the guns.

"You'd think that would be a factor but no." He muses. "They seem to gravitate to them." Bond huffs a husky laugh that does something weird to his stomach.

"Why do you keep them around?" Bond disassembles both guns and swiftly puts them back together again.

"Well. Despite lacking basic life skills, which is an unfortunate characteristic of Q branch, myself not included, they really are very clever and inventive." Q tells the agent. He sighs loudly, tells Bond about the watch Lily is making, and how it was Timmy who gave her the first draft for it.

"She just tweaked it really. And changed the wire, but that's not the point." Bond nods thoughtfully.

"Do think I could get one of those?" He asks. Q nods, already planning a trip back to Q branch for it.

"Yes, but for now, I have another toy for you." He holds up a miniaturised Rubik's cube on a keyring. "It has a radio tracker, a small amount of explosive if you press the red squares at the same time, you'll have ten seconds before it blows up, if you press the blue ones, a little compartment pops open so you can pick a lock or crack a code for a door, the yellow is if you need immediate extraction, like a panic button, and the green has a little bit of acid in so you can melt through whatever you feel like." He says cheerily. "Don't get the acid on yourself though. Not fun. It's actually extracted from box jellyfish and then concentrated. Very nasty." Bond stares. "What?"

"You had time to make this yesterday?" Q shrugs.

"Had a bit of spare time."

"You are phenomenal." Bond says in wonder, taking the key chain and looking at it, carefully turning it around. "What does the black one do?" He turns the cube upside down.

"Don't poke that." Q says sharply.

"Why?"

"That connects you to my earpiece. Only for emergencies." Bond makes a face.

"It isn't that good. Just something I knocked together."

"Just something you..." Bond huffs loudly, then shrugs. "Never mind."

Q locks the cabinet again, then crosses to the other side of the room. He pulls out a semi automatic hand gun, a rifle, a shotgun, several small throwing knives, a vial of poison, and two rings.

"What. Are. Those." Bond stares at the rings.

"Muscle relaxant." He hold up the ring engraved with an M. "Truth serum." He holds up the other.

"Muscle relaxant and truth serum."

"I like Johnny English." He shrugs. "Just twist the top, and for heavens sake don't stab _yourself_ with them." He stuffs the weapons and gadgets in the bag, and slips another hand print gun in with them.

Bond slings it over his shoulder, and they make their way back to Q branch.

"Lily! Can we steal that watch from you? Bond is off to Uzbekistan in two hours, thought it might be useful." She has smudge marks on her cheeks, and smells of smoke. The interns have obviously been playing around with the flame thrower. Again. Lily sullenly hands over the watch, glares at Bond, and then goes to shout at an intern, who is playing with garrotte wire.

Q is definitely buying her a present.

A big, expensive, geeky one.

Maybe something she can rig with explosives.

Bond looks at his watch, which still works as a time keeping device, and frowns.

"I should get going. Plane leaves in an hour and a half. Thanks Q." He strides away.

Q is left confused, and with an intern to rescue from M.

Flame throwers.


	4. Chapter 4

_**So, I am the worst writer ever. Life so got in the way, but that doesn't matter, because I am back. **_

_**Disclaimer: Despite my absence, I still don't own Bond. Damn shame really. Have you seen Daniel Craig's arse? Don't be silly, of course you have. Hmm. Moving on.**_

Q is being a very patient quartermaster at this precise moment in time.

Not that he has any choice in the matter, as he is focusing on combing the screens for any glimpse of the target.

And Bond, actually.

At some stupid hour of the morning because of the time difference, and because of the fact that Bond is an idiot.

Jumped up little shit still runs off the first chance he gets. That is absolutely the last time that he makes Bond any pretty new toys.

Of course, that is exactly what he said the last time. And then he gave Bond an exploding Rubik's cube.

Back to the matter in hand. Q methodically searches the infra red screen, looking for the tell tale hot pocket in the target's pocket, grateful that Bond at least managed to keep his earpiece in.

"Anything yet?" The gruff voice sounds in his ear. _He isn't even out of breath._ Q thinks resentfully to himself. Aloud, he replied with a negative and a reprimand about patience.

He rapidly taps keys, until he spots a red patch, trailing around a corner.

"Three o'clock, by the pig pen." On camera, he finally sees Bond racing across the street, suit somehow perfectly intact even after the target blew up the train.

"Do try not to kill him, 007. Remember, this is a capture mission only." Q tells the agent. Bond chuckles and doesn't reply. Instead, he takes a sharp breath and leaps across a chicken coop, leaving a trail of dust behind him.

That isn't very reassuring.

Q tracks the target all the way to a tiny farm, seemingly in the middle of nowhere.

The middle of nowhere quickly turns into somewhere as an explosion shakes the ground, and the heat signature whites out his screen, as well as Q's eyes, knocking Bond to his knees. The agent swears loudly in Q's ear, and hauls himself back up.

Q barely managed to hold back the string of extremely rude words on the tip of his tongue, blinking furiously until his vision is back to normal.

Right. Game on.

"He likes explosions, doesn't he? Let's give him one back, shall we?" Q mutters, pressing a few keys, delivering a message to a jet, which fires several small missiles just close enough to knock the target face first into the dust. Bond strides over, looking ridiculously attractive in his dishevelled suit, and places a foot on the man's chest, gun aimed straight at his head. He relieves him of his weapons, and cuffs him, then calls for backup, who is, in this case, another double 0 agent, put on prisoner duty because of an injury. The small helicopter flies off, cargo safely contained, and Q informs Bond of the time for his flight home, before unplugging his comm and tipping his head back on his shoulders. Lily places a gigantic mug of steaming earl grey tea next him, and a couple of painkillers, and he sighs in relief.

"Lily, you are my favourite geek." He swallows his painkillers dry, and blows on his tea to cool it down, sipping gratefully and relaxing slightly as the warmth spread its way through his tired body. She smiles and pats his curls.

"And you are the only boss who actually lets me blow things up. Which I am going to go and do now, actually. Want me to test out those new rocket launchers?" Q gives a sleepy affirmative through a yawn, contentedly slurping his tea, and watching as the trickle of people leaving steadily became a stream, eventually petering out as even R and Lily left.

He doesn't even remember falling asleep.

What he does remember, is jolting awake sharply and dropping his favourite mug because a certain agent can't resist sneaking up on people.

And because he had fallen asleep with it in his lap.

"Bloody hell Bond!" Q gasps.

Bond tilts his head curiously to the side, and Q absolutely does not find that adorable, because this man is a ruthless killing machine.

Who likes his cat.

And puzzles.

"Were you asleep?" Bond asks. Q pins him with a stare that just has Bond chuckling and sitting on the edge of his desk, close enough that Q is on edge, because this is the infamous James Bond and Q definitely doesn't find that attractive, that dangerous smirk.

"No."

Yes.

"Yes, you were. No point lying to me, Q." Bond smirks again before leaning closer and asking, "Want to know how I know you're lying?"

"Thrill me, 007." Q pretends to be bored.

"The hair, unlike you, never lies." Bond gestured amusedly to Q's mussed hair, sticking out everywhere and refusing to lie flat, and slipped from the office like...like...

Well, like Bond, he supposes.

Bloody man.

At least he brought the gun back.

_**I feel like I use run on sentences way too much, and that my old english teacher would hate me for it. I also feel that bc Q is tired in this chapter, his mental filter is a bit dodgy, so that explains the jump to Q being sort of mushy about James.**_

_**Ta poppets.**_


End file.
